


A Fortuitous Rendezvous

by nerdytf84fan



Series: One Star-Crossed Cowboy [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Mostly Fluff, Sexual Content, as always, brief angst, brief appearance of John Marston / Charles Smith / Bill Williamson, just soft boys being soft, kissing and more, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 20:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17815073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdytf84fan/pseuds/nerdytf84fan
Summary: It's been a few weeks since his last encounter with Albert Mason when he finally has the opportunity to visit the photographer's exhibition at the art gallery. While there, Arthur runs into the last two things he expected to find: a photograph of himself and the gentleman he never thought he'd see again.





	A Fortuitous Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> I actually didn't think this would become a series, but here we are! This is the sequel to "The Trouble with Wanting". Thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope you enjoy!

Arthur squinted as the red dust kicked up with the wind. He wasn’t sure how anyone in Rhodes was able to tolerate the constant cloud of dirt in the air. It was a nuisance, leaving a thin layer of dust on everything it touched. It made him scowl as he once again wished Dutch had gone west rather than east. Sure, the west was just as dry, but at least it wasn’t the red clay he was now traipsing through with John, Bill, and Charles.

They passed a newspaper seller while walking to the saloon, and Arthur paused. A curious thought occurred to him, and he gave the boy some money and took a copy with him. With a few long strides, he was able to catch up with the three men as they walked into the saloon. The four of them found a place to stand at the counter and ordered a few beers. Bill soon began prattling on about nothing in particular, and Arthur decided to ignore him by preoccupying himself with the newspaper in his hands. He took a swig from his bottle as a name in a smaller headline of a brief article caught his eye, and he felt a wide smile spread across his face.

According to the article, Albert Mason's speech had been a success. As he read, he discovered that the exhibition would remain in the gallery until the end of the week. He felt a hope swell in his chest for the first time that month. Perhaps it wasn't too late after all to see Albert's success. Saint Denis wasn't too far from Rhodes. Hell, if the riding was good, he could be there by the end of today.

Arthur restrained the thought and eased his racing heart by taking another swig of his beer. While the idea was tempting, he knew he wouldn't have the time to truly appreciate the man's work if he arrived before the gallery closed for the night. With the smile still plastered on his face, he folded the newspaper and tucked it into his satchel. His eyes then flicked up to John, just noticing the man's curious stare on him. Arthur's brow furrowed as he gave him a look.

"What're you looking at, Marston?"

He shrugged. "Nothing,”

“Then why are you staring?”

“I guess I'm just trying to figure out what that newspaper says to make you smile like that."

"A few O'Driscolls were hanged." He lied. "You know how that always puts me in a good mood."

"I guess," 

It was clear that he wasn't convinced, but John didn't press him any further. Arthur was relieved that he didn't. He wasn't ready to tell others about Albert yet. It was for the best if he wanted to keep the man safe and out of the mess the gang kept stumbling into. Albert could hardly defend himself from a coyote, and the thought of the Pinkertons getting a hold of him made Arthur sick to his stomach.

He continued to nurse his drink until he caught Bill eyeing him. 

"So, some O'driscolls were hanged?" He asked. 

"That's what I said you dumbass." Arthur huffed, disliking the tone of his voice. 

"You know, I didn't see that in the newspaper _I_ got this morning."

His eyes narrowed. "That's funny, Bill, I didn't know you could read."

John swore loudly as he struggled to keep the man from lunging past him to get to Arthur. "Would you two quit it? You're acting like a bunch of damn children!"

"Careful John, that's an insult to children everywhere." Charles said with a hint of amusement in his eyes as he helped by pulling Bill back to where he was.

Meanwhile, Arthur hadn't flinched once as he lifted the bottle to his lips once more to finish the drink. 

"You're lucky they're here to keep things civilized, Morgan!" Bill spat as he snatched his drink before slamming some of the beer down.

Arthur had a whole list of retorts he wanted to use, but he decided to heed Marston's warning look. They were here to unwind from being on the run once again, and yet here he was with a metaphorical fire iron reigniting a fire. He admitted that it was childlike of him, but Bill had been grating on his nerves as of late. 

Arthur ordered another beer and tuned out his friends' conversation, his thoughts returning to Albert. For a moment, he wondered if the photographer was still residing in the boarding house he mentioned. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing him again, but he was quick to suppress the feeling. Arthur was afraid to get his hopes up only to have them dashed. It wouldn't be Albert's fault, of course. The man had no ill will towards him, and Arthur understood that he had been gone for a while between running jobs and running from the Pinkertons. Additionally, it was a long shot that Albert would still be in town rather than traveling back home to who knows where.

The sun was setting by the time Charles and Arthur left John and Bill at the saloon to drink their weight in beer and whiskey. While the two of them didn't mind getting completely drunk, they both found that they weren't quite in the mood for it tonight. They rode back in silence as Arthur found himself deep in thought once again.

Charles cleared his voice before he finally spoke, pulling Arthur back to the present. "What was that back there? I know you and Bill don't get along sometimes, but I don't think I've seen you start something like that in a long while."

"It's been a rough three weeks, Charles, and I don't think I've been able to shake what happened in Valentine yet."

Charles nodded sagely to himself. "It was only a matter of time before we moved, but I don't think we were ready for the Pinkertons to show up on our doorstep."

"We weren't expecting the shootout in Valentine, either," Arthur added. 

"That's right, you were there to witness both instances."

" _And_ the time when they came to me and Jack."

"It really has been a rough few weeks."

"More like a rough few months." He muttered. "Feels like our luck's run dry ever since Micah joined us."

"I don't trust him," Charles said.

"Me neither, but Dutch seems to see something in that snake." 

Arthur felt the man observe him for a moment as they rode on. "If you ever need anything at all Arthur, you just say the word."

"Likewise,"

 

Arthur began his journey to Saint Denis before the first rays of sunlight had even grazed the sky. The earlier he left, the fewer questions he had to answer. Leaving as early as he did allowed him to use the excuse that he was going hunting. However, the only person awake was Charles. It was his shift to stand guard, and he merely greeted Arthur with a cheerful good morning.

His ride to the city was smooth and quiet. There was barely a handful of travelers on the road, and they had all wanted to be left alone. He finally slowed his horse once he entered Saint Denis, realizing that the dread he usually felt was absent for once. Arthur maneuvered his way through the usual pedestrian and streetcar traffic over to the gallery where he hitched the mare just outside. An unexpected wave of uncertainty washed over him, causing him to pause outside the stucco archway. Arthur wasn’t sure when his hands had become so clammy, and he forced himself to walk through the entrance and up the stairs of the gallery.

His heart felt like it would pound right out of his chest as he passed the stranger at the exhibition’s entrance and pushed open the mahogany French doors. He instantly found the photographs displayed in a room across the hall and eagerly made his way over to them. Arthur had only seen the photograph of the wolves, and he was curious as to how the others had turned out considering all the arduous work that had gone into them. A broad smile settled on his face, lighting up his eyes and quieting his heart’s erratic rhythm as he recollected the fond stories behind each image.

As he studied the photographs, he remembered driving the herd of horses through the marshes of the Heartland Overflow and luring an alligator to chase after him against his better judgment. Yet what warmed him the most were the memories of the flirtatious compliments and nervous laughter shared between them. Arthur found himself scratching the back of his neck as he felt the warmth spread to his cheeks. He then rubbed his nose in an attempt to hide it as he occupied himself by studying a camera that was on display.

In the next room over, Albert chatted with a few viewers who had a plethora of questions. He had no problem answering them of course, that is until he caught an all too familiar black hat and leather jacket out of the corner of his eye. He stopped mid-sentence, the sight of Arthur stealing the air from his lungs as his gaze zeroed in on his figure. Albert couldn’t believe it, and he almost convinced himself that the stranger wasn’t the outlaw he knew, the man that he longed so desperately to see, but there was no mistaking the distinct leather cord of Arthur's hat. Albert excused himself almost too abruptly from the strangers and ventured closer as he continued to watch Arthur from a distance. He found himself holding his breath as the man turned, a dumbfounded look suddenly replacing the beautiful smile he had been wearing a second ago. Albert fiddled with his tie as he watched Arthur slowly walk over to the portrait he had snapped of him. The photographer drew a deep breath to steady himself before making his way over to Arthur’s side.

Arthur was too stunned by the sight of his photo framed and hanging on the wall to notice the man who had joined him. He blinked a few times, looked over the man in the photograph once more, and found that he still couldn’t wrap his head around it all. It was definitely a photo of him, no doubt taken when they had first met, but his photograph was the farthest thing from something that should be hung on the walls of an art gallery. The sound of someone clearing their throat beside him pulled him from his bewilderment, and he jumped when he saw Albert beside him.

“Al?” Arthur asked in disbelief. He hadn’t expected to see the man here, and he certainly didn’t imagine seeing him in the three-piece suit he was wearing. Arthur felt his heart skip a beat as he noticed how handsome he looked.

Albert smiled wide and tipped his top hat. “Good afternoon, Arthur. It’s an unexpected pleasure to see you here.”

“I read about your success in a newspaper and wanted to see it for myself.” He replied. “These photographs are amazing, but why the hell is _this_ one in here?”

“Well, you see, this is the man who I owe my life to.” He said as he gestured to the photograph. “Without him, I would’ve been some animal’s lunch. Those horses wouldn’t have been photographed, and that alligator would have caught me instead of the other way around.”  

“Albert—”

“And besides,” he interrupted with a sheepish smile, “the gentleman you see in that photo is a work of art. His portrait, if I do say so myself, is my best piece.”

Arthur could feel his cheeks turning redder as his eyes lowered to the floor. “I-, I don’t know about that one.”

“You’re your own worst critic.” Albert mused with a wistful look in his eyes, his hand coming up to tilt Arthur’s chin upwards just enough to meet his gaze. “When will you see that?”

The outlaw swallowed, unsure of what to say for once.

Knowing this, Albert dropped the topic and let go of his chin as he took a half step back. “I’m glad to see you in good health again. Did everything go alright with the job you were expecting to do?”

“Yes and no, we ran into some trouble again.”

Albert furrowed his brow in concern and lowered his voice. “Is everything alright?”

“Not really, but this ain’t the place to talk about it,” Arthur replied as he glanced around. The city no doubt had Cornwall’s eyes and ears all over, and he preferred not to give many details amongst the gallery’s naturally gossipy crowd.

“Of course, why don’t I meet you at the saloon down the street? You look like you could use a drink.”

Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle at the observation. The outlaw was just at a saloon the night before, but Albert was right. He may have had a few beers but having to deal with Bill tainted what was supposed to be a relaxing evening. A drink with Albert sounded more than lovely to him, so he agreed and left the gallery to let the photographer focus on his admirers.

After finding a spot at the counter, he occupied his time at the saloon by watching the other patrons. Closer to the door, he could see a high stakes poker game. Arthur settled for watching the men as they placed bets.

An hour had passed when Arthur finally saw the well-dressed photographer step through the saloon doors. He flashed him a smile as he waved him over.

“Are you a drinking man, Mr. Mason?” He asked as Albert leaned against the counter next to him.

“Occasionally, what’s your usual poison?”

“Usually beer or whiskey, but for a month as hellish as this one I’ll take a whole bottle of whiskey.”

Albert chuckled and ordered their drinks as he handed a few coins to the bartender. Arthur dug through his satchel for a few coins himself, but Albert stopped him by placing a hand on his.

“Please, let me treat you to a drink or two,” Albert said.

“Alright, if you insist.”

“Anyway,” he began as they were handed their drinks, “what trouble have you found yourself in this time?”

“Let’s just say while trying to avoid the Pinkertons, they managed to find us three different times in the last three weeks.”

“I suppose that explains why I haven’t seen or heard from you in a while.” Albert mused.

Arthur nodded. “We nearly lost a few folks, but everything worked out.”

The comment pulled the photographer’s attention away from his ale as he looked Arthur over, understanding with sudden clarity that the man sitting beside him could have lost his life. Dread filled the pit of his stomach as Albert realized that if, God forbid, Arthur had lost his life, he would have no way of knowing. The photographer would have carried on with his life without thinking twice about Arthur’s disappearance. With the simple life Albert lived, it was easy to overlook how the outlaw constantly encountered and even pursued violence and danger.

As he pondered these things, Arthur thought he saw a flicker of something in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. Instead, Albert nursed his drink before flashing him a smile. “So, what’s your story, Arthur? For as many times as you’ve saved my life, I don’t think I’ve ever asked you the question.”

Arthur shook his head before taking a swig from his whiskey bottle. “It ain’t a happy one, Al.”

“Mr. Morgan, if I had wanted to hear a children’s story about King Arthur and his knights at the round table, I would’ve asked. What I’m interested in is _your_ story, whatever that may be.” 

“Fine,” Arthur sighed before nursing his drink some more as he gathered his thoughts. “I don’t remember much about my mother, she died when I was a boy, and my father was a no-good bastard. I was eleven when I watched him swing for his crimes, and I was glad to see it. Then these two men found me a few years later, and while they ain’t much older than me, they ended up being more of a father figure than my old man ever was. Hell, I owe my life to them.” He paused as he fidgeted with the whiskey bottle in his hand, swirling the dark liquid in its container. “I had a son, but he passed away, and I spend most of my time robbing and killing people.”

Albert sipped his ale as he processed Arthur’s words. They hung like a dead weight in the air, and Arthur worried he had shared more than he should have. He finished the rest of his whiskey before ordering another as the photographer tried to find the right words to say.

“Something tells me that’s not even the half of it.” He finally said.

“It ain’t,”

Albert studied the outlaw who continued to avoid his gaze by staring at his new bottle of whiskey. It wasn’t hard to see the persistent sadness that lurked in his eyes, but what little Arthur told him helped him understand it. He had been through so much pain, half of which Albert couldn’t even begin to empathize with. While his own life hadn’t been all sunshine and roses, he didn’t know what it was like to lose someone, let alone a child. The brief glimpses Arthur had given him weighed heavy on his heart. He wanted to take the man’s burdens and pain that had caused so much grief. Albert felt a strong urge to hold his hand, to let him know how much he wanted to be there for Arthur and to tell him he didn’t have to do this alone. As challenging as it was, he chose to restrain himself.

“Is one of the men who took you in the leader of your gang?” He finally asked.

“Well, they both are in their own way.” He then cleared his throat and lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips. “And what about you, Albert? How did a man from the city find a heart for wildlife he’s hardly seen in person?”

“You know, as much as I love the city, I couldn’t help but notice how wasteful the people are. There’s a consumer mentality where more is never enough. The more I looked, the more I began to notice that the consumerism ideals bled into reaping as much as one could from the local fauna. I started some research when I realized I was through with photographing people obsessed with their things. Upon discovering the extent to which people were hunting certain species, I decided to do something about it, to raise awareness through capturing their beauty.”

“It’s working. The newspaper had mighty things to say about your speech. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there to hear it.” Arthur said.

“You really don’t have to apologize for that. What matters is that you took the time to be here now.”

Arthur smiled, grateful for Albert’s unabashed graciousness. He could tell Albert meant every word he said and knowing that resurfaced dizzying feelings that made his head swim and his heart flutter.

They ordered another round of drinks as they continued their lighter conversation. With the strong alcohol in their system, the inhibitions they once had suddenly fell. As their laughter became more boisterous, Arthur found his hands gravitating to the photographer’s shoulders and back as they talked before finally landing on his thigh. Albert gave him a once-over look, unsure if the physical contact had been intentional. Yet Arthur’s hand stayed there, and with a smirk, he dared to slide his hand higher.

The action caught him off guard, and it took all he could to fight back the gasp that threatened to escape him. Arthur’s hand returned to his knee where his fingers traced light circles as if pretending nothing had happened. Albert drew a deep breath in through his nose before he paid for his half-finished drink and led Arthur outside of the saloon.

As they headed through an alley towards the boarding house, a mischievous grin twisted Arthur's lips. He stopped in his tracks and pulled Albert over to him. As the gentleman stumbled toward him, Arthur grasped his bearded face and captured his lips with his own. They both melted into the kiss, the taste of alcohol still strong on their tongues and their breath hot compared to the cool air. Arthur felt his back press against the brick wall as Albert's hands pinned him there by his shoulders. A groan clawed its way out from his throat as Albert's lips sought his neck and found their place on a sensitive patch of skin below his jaw where he nipped and sucked. He would for sure have marks in the morning, but Arthur couldn't care less.

Albert pressed himself against Arthur, his thigh sliding between the outlaw's legs. Arthur ground down against him and bit his lip as he tried his best to stifle his deep moans that reverberated off the alley's walls. Albert, who was just sober enough to care about their public sensual displays of affection, tried to quiet him with another kiss. Arthur, at the moment, felt differently, but he wasn't about to complain about having his mouth on the photographer's once again. He reached for Albert's growing bulge, palming him as he grasped his rear with the other. Arthur grinned at the breathy moan his touch elicited, and he had started to slide his hand past Albert's waistband when the gentleman pulled away.

For a moment, Arthur felt the blood drain from his face as he wondered if he'd crossed a line. However, his fears were extinguished when Albert took his hand once more and led him up some stairs and into his room.

Albert slowed down, his touches less frantic and more tender. They sent chills down Arthur's spine as his shirt was gingerly removed and cast aside. Albert paused, taking in the view. His hands grasped either side of his chest before one traced the fresh scars from their incident with the mountain lion. Arthur shivered, and he brought the man's hand to his lips, knowing Albert's thoughts had taken a melancholic turn.

"I'm still here, Al." He reassured. 

Albert nodded, his eyes flicking up to meet Arthur's again. "Indeed you are,"

"So quit blamin' yourself then."

"As you wish. You know my thought patterns all too well, but I do have one condition." He said.

Arthur groaned, unsure of where he was going. His patience was wearing thin as the arousal burning between his legs persisted, but nonetheless he decided to humor him. "Yes?" 

"You have to admit that you're a kind man." 

"Al, that's ridiculous!" 

" _And_ that you're ruggedly handsome." 

Arthur rolled his eyes with a scoff. The man had clearly drunk one too many drinks. He shook his head and tried to go back in for another kiss, hoping to avoid the request entirely. Albert, however, was determined to hear him say those words. He forced the outlaw back a few steps until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Arthur shouldn't have been surprised that Albert was strong enough to do such a thing considering their last encounter. Yet there he was, his brow furrowed and mouth slightly parted in surprise. Albert ran his fingers down his chest, barely touching the skin as he took his sweet time. Arthur shuddered as Albert's hand settled just above his belt, toying with the buckle as he purposefully let his fingers graze the material just below. Arthur nearly growled at the deliberate teasing. He went to grab Albert's hand, but the photographer batted it away. There was a look of determination in Albert's eyes, and it sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through the outlaw.

"Say it," he said as he knelt down between his legs, his hands resting on Arthur's knees.

Arthur swallowed at the sight, truly speechless for a moment. He licked his lips and drew a deep breath. "I'm a kind man."

"And?" Albert was definitely having too much fun with this. By now he had one hand languidly moving up his thigh but staying just out of reach from where Arthur wanted it to be.

"Dammit Mason!"

"I'm waiting," he hummed.

"And I'm ruggedly handsome." He grumbled through gritted teeth. "Now would ya stop being such a damn _tease?_ "

Albert laughed. "Certainly,"

The photographer removed the rest of Arthur's clothes before removing his own. He then trailed kisses along his thigh and paused. His eyes flicked up to Arthur's, half timid and half spurred on by the sheer desire burning in the outlaw's eyes. He set to work, pleasuring Arthur using both his mouth and hand. The noises that fell out of Arthur when he was finally touched were obscene. The outlaw tensed the muscles in his hips to prevent himself from bucking, for the most part, and gripped the sheets in his fists. 

It wasn't long before Arthur unraveled, and he found himself with his back flat against the bed and Albert straddling him.

Just when Arthur caught his breath, he felt Albert's fingers ease into him. Soft moans spilled out one after another, and the pleasure that jolted through him when he finally felt Albert inside him was overwhelming. A gasp chased by a groan escaped Arthur, and he forced himself to relax. The gentleman's breath against his neck was electric as he set a slow and gentle rhythm, shallow at first until Arthur began to roll his hips to meet Albert's.

The outlaw was breathing hard by now, his hand coming up to tangle his fingers with Albert's soft hair and pulling him closer for a messy kiss. Arthur wrapped his legs around his hips as he sought to occupy whatever space was left between them. Albert gasped and exhaled soft moans against his lips, his pace quicker but still gentle. Arthur wasn't used to such tenderness. At first, he had considered telling Albert to be rougher with him. It was what he knew, after all, when on the receiving end. Yet every touch of Albert's hands and the feel of each thrust was electrifying, even dizzying. Arthur found himself wanting more and drinking in as much pleasure as he could. 

He clung to him as he felt an intense and all too familiar heat building within. He could tell Albert was close too as he began to lose his once steady rhythm. It didn't take long for a sea of pleasure to consume him, Albert following close behind as the sounds of breathy moans filled the air with their names on the other's lips.

 

Arthur watched the slow rise and fall of Albert’s chest with half-lidded eyes. The photographer had fallen asleep quickly after their warm bath, and Arthur couldn’t resist smiling at the sight. The light from the full moon spilled into the room through the windows, bathing Albert’s bare skin and accentuating the contours of his body. It was a lovely sight, and Arthur decided that there was no better word for it.

He gently pulled Albert closer to him. For the first time in a long while, he felt thoroughly content. Arthur wasn’t sure how he had gotten so lucky in the midst of he and the gang’s most recent run of rotten luck. It had felt like he was drowning in it until he ran into Albert again. Arthur gently ran his calloused thumb over the photographer’s smooth skin. In his mind, he didn’t deserve this kind of happiness, but he was going to cherish it while he still had it. All good things eventually came to an end in his experience, but he was determined to treasure the moment and enjoy it for what it was.

In the small room of the boarding house, his world was only Albert. Lying there, he didn’t have to worry about plans. There were no trains or banks to rob and no Pinkertons to run from.

Arthur pressed a light kiss to his bare shoulder and continued to watch Albert slumber. Sleep never came easily for him, but between the residual warmth from the bath and from his skin pressed against Albert’s, Arthur eventually fell into a deep and restful sleep. There were no nightmares, just images of Albert and his breathtaking smile and the two of them living a perfect life together.


End file.
